


Breaking Rick

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Because seriously... people are dead, Bottom Daryl, Did I mention Major Character Death?, Dreams vs. Reality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Incubus Daryl, Last words, Love Confessions, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Oral Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, True Love, You should know that going in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6432982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl was bitten by a random walker during what should have been a simple run.  Rick struggles with reality as he tries to go on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Rick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DustAnDirt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustAnDirt/gifts).



> First of all- Unbeta'd. 
> 
> Second of all- Don't blame me! Blame the guy I offered to write a prompt for---->DustAnDirt! His request was:
> 
> _I would love an Incubus/Daryl fic if that would be something you are into? I love the idea of Daryl dying and coming back as Rick's Incubus._
> 
> Soooo... I don't know if I did this right, but after googling Incubus and finding words like- Demon in male form, sexual activity resulting in death, appearing in their sleep, erotic dreams, etc. etc. I wrote this. 
> 
> If you need a pick-me-up afterwards, check out the cool manip I got for this! DustAnDirt made it for me!  
> http://dustandirt.tumblr.com/post/142061268477/requested-by-twdobsessive-manip-by-dustandirt

He was gone. Just gone. And Rick had been moving slow like he was in a dream ever since, each step feeling like he was moving through molasses. Everything he looked at was tinged with a blur from the permanent sheen of tears that filled his eyes. And no one would look at him. No one would talk to him. It was his fault.

It wasn't the governor. Wasn't the claimers. Wasn't fucking Negen. It was just a damn walker. Just some long-dead old lady with shattered glasses on a rope around her neck and a Piggly Wiggly smock. Just a wrong move. Fingers that fumbled too long on the crossbow and Rick out of bullets, not close enough yet to help. 

Rick knew he was fucked. He lost his shit with Lori. With Jessie. With Michonne. He loved them all and they all died. But this was different. This wasn’t just someone he had a romantic relationship with, this was Daryl. Daryl was everything. Everything. His strength, his loyalty, his heart. Daryl was half of Rick and with him gone from this earth, Rick felt like he was walking around like the dead themselves. Something completely missing. He was a summer tree without leaves. A belt without holes. Water without a glass. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not alone. Not without Daryl.

In Alexandria, life continued. Crops grew. Walls were repaired. Dead were buried. Rick sat on his porch in a daze. It had only been three days and he honestly couldn’t remember if he’d eaten, slept or even taken a piss since it happened. The world moved on around him and he was trapped, reliving the loss of Daryl over and over in his mind. The sound the teeth made when they clenched down on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl’s soft, steady voice just whispering “Fuck” as he was bitten. The thud as the walker fell, Rick on it and stabbing. Stabbing and stabbing and screaming and his voice sounded like someone else’s- a shrieking howl he didn’t recognize.

And it was over. They looked at each other. Rick remembered saying Daryl’s name as they both sat on the ground next the once-woman who was now finally dead for the second and last time.

“You tried, man. ‘S ok. Just bad luck,” he’d said, comforting Rick instead of allowing himself to be comforted. Always so selfless. Always. 

Rick snapped out of his memory and watched Carl come up the porch steps and stop over him. He heard the sound of a table being set for dinner inside. 

“Dad. You have to snap out of it. We all miss him. We all loved him. But he’d want us to be strong. To keep going.” Rick looked up at Carl and nodded. 

“Yeah. I know, Carl.”

Once it was clear Rick had nothing else to say, Carl went inside and shut the door quietly behind him. Rick was tired. But he didn’t deserve the comfort and escape of sleep. All the times Daryl had saved him. Gotten to him in just the nick of time and Rick couldn’t do the same. It was just a walker. It was like the new world version of dying from something as mundane as falling off a ladder hanging Christmas lights. It shouldn’t have happened this way. How could Rick let it happen? He sat on the porch and leaned back against the house. He closed his eyes and let his mind conjure up an image of Daryl and he tried to breath in and breath out. He was exhausted. He should go up to bed, but he had no drive to move. 

It wasn’t just that he couldn’t save Daryl. He couldn’t kill him either. Couldn't even give him the last thing he asked for.

“Rick. Just do it, man. It’s ok,” he’d whispered. Daryl had been the one with hands steady enough to load the Python with bullets. He pressed it into Rick’s hand. “It’s ok. I gotta go, man. I'll see you on the other side,” he said.

Tears ran down Rick’s cheeks. No. He couldn’t. No. And Daryl took a deep breath. “It’s ok, brother. I know you can’t.” He gently took the Colt back from Rick and he held it to his temple. 

“No, Daryl. Not yet. Please,” Rick whimpered. 

“I love you,” Daryl said before he pulled the trigger. And those were the words that rang in Rick’s head, that continue to ring through his brain on a loop. I love you. I love you.

When Rick opened his eyes he was still on the porch. There was no sound, not even from crickets or murmurs from conversations happening inside their shared home. There was no wind. No groans from the dead caught on barricades outside the walls. But there was Daryl, sitting indian-style in front of him. Rick sat up tall. “Daryl!?”

“Rick.”

“You’re here. I thought… I thought you were gone.”

“Not gone. Connected to you, Rick.” His voice was so soft and gentle against the backdrop of complete silence. It sounded angelic. It was comfort. It was warm blankets and hot tea. It was home.

“Are you really here?” Rick asked as he got to his knees. He remembered Lori lingering longer at the prison than she should have. He knew she wasn’t real. He knew Daryl couldn’t be either, but he was so close. Rick could smell him. Could see every detail of his face, every tear in his clothes.

“I'm here cause you need me to be here,” Daryl answered.

“I do.”

“You have more things you wanted from me. And I have more things I want to give.”

Rick choked back a sob as he reached out and touched Daryl's hair. “Yes,” He whined. And he felt it. Strands of Daryl’s shaggy hair against his fingers. Daryl was there. 

“I'm here for those things. I know what you want,” Daryl said, his voice soft and submissive. He tilted his head and lifted his chin, exposing his neck like a wolf pup to it’s alpha.

Rick looked back to the house. There were no lights on through the windows and the silence was thick and muddy like lukewarm pea soup. 

“No one’s here right now,” Daryl said.

“No one’s here at the house?” Rick asked, confused. Was it a dream? It had to be. Because everyone should be home. And Rick had buried Daryl, alone, days ago, miles away from Alexandria.

“No one's here anywhere. It's just us, Rick. Me and you.”

“I'm so sorry, Daryl. I couldn't-” Rick hiccuped from his sob. His eyes burned red-hot with tears.

Daryl slipped off his crossbow and put it down gently beside him.

“I love you,” he said again and Rick jumped at the memory of the gunshot that went off the last time, the only time, he heard those words from Daryl. 

“Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you want to fuck me,” Daryl whispered conspiratorially, nibbling on the end of his thumb, pupils widening so the blue disappeared into dark black pools of want.

Rick flushed red and felt his cock start to harden. He did. He wanted Daryl. He’s always wanted Daryl. “I should have told you I loved you before-”

“Before what?”

“Before...before... I buried you. You’re gone, Daryl. You're not really here.”

Daryl got to his feet and reached down for Rick, and the leader took his hand. Felt it. Felt Dary lifting him to his feet. He was real. He was here. Daryl leaned in close, head slightly tilted so their noses wouldn’t bump. Rick felt Daryl’s breath against his lips. “Don’t let me disappear, Rick. Put your hands on me. I need you.”

The only sound was Rick’s heart. A dull beat that thudded at an increasingly steadier pace as time passed. Rick didn’t know if it had been just moments or long hours that he stood there and breathed Daryl’s air, his mouth parted and just inches away. His eyes on Rick’s. Heat from Daryl’s body pouring off of him. “Please don’t leave me, Daryl,” Rick groaned as he rested his forehead to the archer’s. 

“Give me a reason to stay, Rick. Put your hands on me. Wanted them on me for years. Please,” Daryl begged as he slid his own weathered hands along Rick’s waist. 

It was quiet and still like a fading dream. The air wasn’t quite right in Rick’s lungs. Gravity wasn’t right. Time stood still. But Daryl was here. Right in front of him begging to be touched so Rick moved his hands to Daryl’s neck and pulled him in, kissed him hard and desperately as if the kiss had the power to bring him back to life. 

Rick was certain the feel of Daryl’s body against his own would disappear in a whisper of a moment, unexpectedly at any time because this couldn't be real. It was a hallucination. Like before. But he felt Daryl, firm and strong under his hands. Felt the softness of his mouth, the pressure of his tongue as it slid past Rick’s lips. Daryl groaned as Rick pulled the archer's body tight to his and he could feel the vibrations rumble through him. It was Daryl. Here. Alive and in his arms and wanting him. Wanting everything from him. 

He gripped into Daryl's hair as he kissed him, devoured him, memorized the feel of his mouth, the hardness of his body. His arms roamed down Daryl, grasping onto his toned, muscled biceps, and dropping to his hips, holding him steady as Rick rocked into him. 

“Daryl, I want you so bad. Want everything,” Rick said between gasps for breath.

They stilled, breaths frantic and unsteady, gasping for air, lips close. “Then take me. Take everything. I want you to have me. Been yours since forever. Before I even met you, I was made to be yours.”

Rick lost all control. He gripped into Daryl’s shirt and ripped the buttons apart, peeling it off of him along with the vest as Daryl began unbuttoning Rick’s shirt with a little more patience and restraint. By the time he got to the bottom button, Rick pulled his own shirt off and reached back to Daryl, pulling him close. Feeling the heat of his chest against Rick’s own. It was so close, so raw. Nothing was between them, his flesh against Daryl’s flesh and the feel of him was like heaven. He felt Daryl’s hands between them, fumbling with Rick’s buckle. Rick wanted to pull back, let him take his pants off. He wanted what would happen next. But he couldn’t pull his mouth away. The taste of Daryl was like a drug. It was the taste of warm sun on asphalt, of damp moss in the forest, of strength. 

Finally Daryl pushed Rick back against the house leaving Rick’s lips bare and cold, unkissed. He put a hand to Rick’s chest. He looked at Rick, instructing him with a glance to stop. To wait. To do as Daryl instructed. So Rick did. He stood. He waited. Daryl unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped. He pulled Rick’s pants down and motioned for him to lift one foot after the other to step out of them and Rick obeyed. The sight of Daryl on his knees at Rick’s feet knocked the wind out of him and he slumped against the house, his own knees weak. 

Daryl looked up at him, loyalty and love in his eyes. He licked lips that were only inches away from Rick’s hard, throbbing cock. And wordlessly, he pressed his tongue to Rick’s length and licked a hard, wet line to the tip of it, swallowing the head. 

“Oh, Fuck. Daryl,” Rick whispered. His hands dropped to Daryl’s head, resting gently on it as he thrust his hips, Daryl eagerly sucking and licking and moaning. Time again played evil games. Was it just seconds or had Rick been leaning against the wall with Daryl’s mouth on him for days? He looked down at his… his… his everything. His Daryl. And Daryl looked back up with pleading eyes. Eyes that were absolutely begging to be fucked. 

Rick pushed Daryl away gently by the shoulders and knelt down so quickly he felt a bruise blooming in his knee from his rush to get to the ground quickly. Daryl moved his body exactly as Rick wanted, as if Rick was scripting it. He laid back on the hard wooden porch and undid his pants, wiggling out of them while he kept his gaze on Rick’s.

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for so long, Rick. Want you to come with me. Be with me.”

“I want to be with you, Daryl. I don’t want to be anywhere else. Ever.”

Daryl spread his legs and lifted two fingers like an offering to Rick’s lips. The leader sucked them in and got them wet and ready and he watched as Daryl stretched himself open right there below Rick on the porch of their home. Rick looked back to the door. Still no light, no noise. Daryl’s moans as he fingered himself were thick and husky in the still air, almost like they were in a tunnel. 

“Rick. I’m ready,” he moaned, his eyes so fucking dark, teeth biting at his bottom lip as he tilted his hips up for Rick. “Rick. Fuck me. Come with me. Don’t stay here. There’s nothing here. Be with me. I want you.” 

Rick spit in his hand and stroked his cock then he slowly, very slowly pressed into Daryl. He was tight. Fucking so goddamn tight that Rick had no idea if this was even going to work. But Daryl writhed below him, squirming and begging quietly. “More. More. Yes, Rick. Please.”

Once he was fully seated, Daryl was in a frenzy beneath him. “God, yes!” he shouted as Rick pulled back and thrust gently back in. “Harder, Rick. Show me how much you’ve missed me. Show me how angry you are that I left you.”

Rick gasped at the memory. Daryl wasn’t here. He was gone. He was buried. But Rick felt his warmth. The tight, hot squeeze of him around Rick’s cock. The feel of his hands in Rick’s hands as the leader held him down on the porch and fucked him harder. Daryl was his. No one takes him away. Not from Rick Grimes. Daryl belongs to him. He’s always belonged to Rick. Before time. Before the apocalypse. Before heaven and hell and stars in the sky. And Rick felt all of it building up inside of him. The want, the desire, the need, the desperation. His balls tightened and he felt the oncoming rush of orgasm barrelling down on him as Daryl whimpered below him, gasping and murmuring words that had no meaning, his body arching off the porch and finally a hot stream of come spilling from his untouched cock. And that’s all it took to make Rick explode too. He felt the pulse of his orgasm, the warmth of his release, the relief and the ecstasy. 

Both men were quiet and they lay still on the porch, naked. A sheen of sweat covering them both. Panting. And suddenly they were dressed again. Rick sitting against the house and Daryl before him, indian-style. He had Rick’s Colt and was loading it with bullets again like he’d done three days prior. He handed Rick the gun, pressed it into his hand. “Come with me,” Daryl whispered. “There’s nothing here.”

Rick looked in Daryl’s eyes. There was no place else he could ever be again. He’d never stop moving in long slow steps, the pace of slow dripping honey in a world where you needed to move like water from a forceful spicot. “There’s nothing here,” Rick repeated.

Daryl moved Rick’s hands, lifted them, aimed the gun gently against Rick’s temple. “Come with me. I love you.” 

A gunshot. Again after those words just like three days ago and silence. I love you. And everything goes black.

*******************************

When Rick opened his eyes he was still on the porch. He watched Carl come up the steps and stop over him. He heard the sound of a table being set for dinner inside. 

“Dad. You have to snap out of it. We all miss him. We all loved him. But he’d want us to be strong. To keep going.” Rick looked up at Carl and nodded. 

Once it was clear Rick had nothing else to say, Carl went inside and shut the door quietly behind him.

And Rick was alone. And time passed, maybe just moments or maybe full long hours. And suddenly there was no sound, not even from crickets or murmurs from conversations happening inside their shared home. There was no wind. No groans from the dead caught on barricades outside the walls. But there was Daryl, sitting indian-style in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hurry up and read another fic where Daryl is alive!! And please don't hate me for this!! :-)


End file.
